When he checked his overall roster against quarters accommodations, Tregare realized he had literally filled the ship; if there were any vacant bunk except the spare in his own digs, he couldn't think of one. He was somewhat chagrined, then, to get a call from a trader named Bret Osallin, a one-armed man not much given to red tape, therefore easier to deal with than most here.

  Now Osallin reminded him that he'd halfway promised to give consideration to a passenger represented by the trader, a woman who had been, while waiting for a ship to ride, taking a sort of tour of some of Far Corners more interesting aspects. "She'd like to talk with you, Tregare. I told her you would. "

  Impatient, wanting to end the call, Bran considered. Damn it, he knew the background. Osallin had formerly captained a ship for UET, and was known as good to serve under. Then, one way or another, depending on which rumor you chose to believe, he'd lost the arm. And UET, with its usual generosity, had dumped him on this world with a meager and ironically-named "severance payment, " to shift for himself.

  So for several reasons, Tregare didn't want to turn this man down flat. Earlier, before the ship filled up, he'd hinted that maybe Osallin could use a lift out of UET country, but the man smiled and said, "No, thanks; I have a job to do, here. "-Well, certainly that was an attitude Bran understood.

  But it didn't help him find an answer. Now he said, "I really have a full ship. Unless your client would like to ride in Hold Portside Upper where the bunks are four deep and some sleeping double. But—oh, hell, I owe you, I guess. For being good to deal with. So bring your client out, any time today. Maybe I can discourage the old bat and it won't be your fault. "

  Even without a screen, Osallin's grin was clear in his voice. "Maybe you can. " Then the voice came serious. "But if you can possibly do so, Tregare, please consider taking this passenger. Her reasons are—well, rather urgent. "

  "We'll see. Bring her. "

  When Osallin—short, squat, his smile showing three gold teeth and missing one alongside that trio—brought his client into Tregare's quarters and introduced her, Bran saw what the grin he'd sensed was all about. No "old bat" was Tari Obrigo. Somewhere in her early twenties, Tregare guessed. Not tall, slim but somehow not at all fragile—quickly he assessed the identifying details. Clothes weren't anything he noticed much; her dress was a dark orange, fitted well, and wasn't showy. She had an oval face, dark brown eyes, black hair curling down around her shoulders. What else? Front teeth a little prominent, brows arched more than nature probably intended, and at the left nostril a small, fleshy mole. All right—now he'd recognize her. The only thing that bothered him was the way she moved—he remembered that from someplace, but couldn't figure quite where....

  Meeting Osallin's awkward lefthanded handshake, Tregare said to the woman, "Passage? I have room for one, only. "

  "I wish passage; my friend Osallin does not. How much?"

  Damn, but she was arrogant. So he said, "What am I bid?" and when she seemed confused, added, "I'm not running a charity, Ms. Obrigo. Highest bidder rides. "

  "I see. And you have other bids?" Somehow irritated by the precision of her speech, he lied, saying that of course he did. Why am 1 letting her get to me? Her self-assurance, maybe? Or—? She asked to see those bids; sparring, he said everything had been verbal. She wanted to know the amounts; off the top of his head he quoted a sum that should certainly back her away. But all she said was, "And does that include the freeze-chamber?"

  Serve her right if he said yes! But, "No freeze on here. The damned things aren't working right. Unreliable. " Then, still sounding as if she ran this show, she asked how long the trip would be, ship's time. He shook his head, saying he didn't give out that kind of information, but that if she figured on a year she wouldn't miss it too far, either way.

  From the look of her, she was ready to drop the matter and leave. But Osallin spoke. "Did I forget to mention, Captain Tregare, that Ms. Obrigo is a Hulzein protege? I believe you occasionally do business with Hulzein agents, other than myself?"

  And then Bran knew where he'd seen it before, the way this woman moved. His aunt Erika Hulzein, the one who'd tried to have him killed: the time he'd seen her do combat display. Tregare's eyes narrowed. If that's it... All right—let's see how far they're willing to go. So he said, "Okay—the price is half of what I just told you. But no less. Not for anybody. " Now we'll see.

  Obrigo raised her arched brows. "What about the other bidders?"

  "What you do on this ship is ride it. What you don't do is ask 1 questions. You got it?" If he could drive her away, he would. 1 But irrationally, he found himself hoping that he couldn't. 1

  He saw her hesitate, then rally. "I always ask questions. Everywhere. But I agree—you have the right not to answer. And so do I. "

  Without intent, he found himself smiling. "We lift day after tomorrow, around sunset. Bring your gear aboard two hours early. No time for last-minute stuff; you see?"

  "I understand. " So Tregare nodded and led the two people to the door, where the guard waited to take them down off the ship.

  Then Bran sat down and poured himself a drink. Thinking, this Obrigo was a wild card he hadn't asked to be dealt. Was she an agent of Erikas? In that case, what would she want? Oh hell, Erika's long dead. But her daughter would carry the same genes, the same aims. Yet how could anybody know he'd come here? In the Long View, a rendezvous planned by only one side simply couldn't happen. But still...

  His suspicions made no sense; he knew that, but couldn't shake them loose. His parents, on Number One where he was going next: no, there was simply no way they could be involved. Could they...

  His hand moved, as if to brush away cobwebs of fear. This was all garbage; it was the woman herself who bothered him. Something familiar there: not only movement but appearance—yet he couldn't place her. Chance resemblance, probably—but who? Damn, if he could be his real self again, not this stretched-out wreck, he'd put her in her place fast enough, and show her what uppity really meant. Or did he really want to do that... ?

  Hell with it; he polished off his drink and went upship, back to work.

  The next two days went hectic; when Obrigo showed up he was arguing some mistakes with groundside suppliers. He didn't have to argue; he could say "go to hell, " and lift off. But he rather liked the idea of Far Corner as a buffer between UET and the Hidden Worlds, so he kept patience beyond his wont. Only at the edge of vision did he notice Obrigo climb to the entrance deck, and Chira go to meet her. He'd told Chira to greet Tari Obrigo, feed her some coffee or whatever in the galley, and take her to captain's digs. Chira, he noticed, didn't offer to help carry the passengers luggage. Well, maybe that could be a good start. After a while he disengaged the argument without too much prejudice, and went to see how

  Chira was doing.

  * * *

  The door to his quarters was open; he heard Obrigo say, "Why must I carry my gear from one place to another, where I will not be staying?"

  Entering, standing behind her, he said, "You're staying here, Ms. Obrigo. The rest of the ship is full. "

  Chira yelled, "Yeah? Where I go?" When he laughed, saying she could stay right here and they'd all have lots of fun, she spat. "I don't do that stuff. I don't. "

  "Neither do I, " said Obrigo. "Do not worry" And to Tregare, "I have bought passage—only that. Or else I leave this ship. "

  The whole ploy had got out of hand, but he was stuck with it. Well, sooner or later he had to test the limits; why not start now? He reached out, clenched a hand in her hair, shaking her head slowly from side to side. "Nobody's getting off—and you stay here. Don't crap me how you don't do this or that, either; I know the Hulzein training program. You got it?"

  Her only reaction was to say, "Let go of my hair. "

  He did; she hand-brushed it back from her face, and said, "Erika has more than one training program. "

  "I know, " he said, and left quarters for Control. It was time for lift, and time to see if he could do it.

  Liftoff went well enough; bent out of shape Tregare might be, but still functioning. He set course for Number One, waited until Tinhead confirmed that aim and accel were correct within limits of acceptable error, then went downship to quarters.

  Tari Obrigo and Chira must have been getting chummy; when he came in they moved farther apart. Chira had a guilty look to her, and Bran noticed a couple of nearly-empty shotsized glasses. So they'd been at his best booze, too. All right...

  Where to push it? The passengers luggage. "Inspection time, " he said, and saw Obrigo hesitate before she opened the bags to him. He searched quickly, determined that there were no hidden compartments of any size, and came up with a lockbox. "Open it. "

  She shook her head. "That is private—Hulzein business. " And when he said that he was in a lot of Hulzein business himself, she claimed she had no authority in this matter and couldn't even open the thing, herself.

  He didn't buy it. "You almost lie like a Hulzein—but not quite. "

  "Believe what you wish. I cannot oblige you. "

  He looked at the box and recognized its mechanism—a photolock, keyed to its bearer's retinal patterns. With one hand to her nape he brought the lock to her eyes. "Keep 'em open. "

  But the lock didn't yield. He let her go. "Well, I've opened photolocks before. "

  "If you try this one, do it somewhere else. Or let me out of here—and Chira, also. "

  "Booby-trapped, is it? Fine—you can tell me how. " "You know Erika better than that, if you know her at all.

  Would she allow me to be a possible weak link?" And finally she convinced him she didn't know. So he might as well drop the matter.

  He said as much, adding, "If you can't open it yourself, I don't have to worry you've got a weapon in there. "

  Eyes slitted, she laughed. "Is that what you were afraid of?" "Afraid?" While her scorn tore at his gut. "Don't use that word to me, you bitch!"

  In flat tones, she said, "Why not, you bastard?" Then he hit her—a slap, not a fist blow—somehow wondering how this woman could so provoke him. Showing no reaction, she said,

  "I see. You can call names but I cannot? This is hardly a good beginning for a friendly relationship. "

  "Friendly? All right—let's see you be friendly. " Unbelieving, then, he watched her remove and drop her clothing.

  "You see? No weapons on my person, either. " Without haste she lay on the larger of the two beds and spread her legs. "Very well, let us get on with it. What are you waiting for?"

  I didn't intend this. But I have to call her bluff. "You know something? You're not a very feminine woman, are you?"

  "I did not have a very feminine upbringing. I am as I am. "

  "Yeah—well, we'll see. " As he got rid of his own clothes he saw her eyes widen briefly—maybe she hadn't seen Slaughterhouse scars before. For a moment he wondered if he couldmanage sex just now, but it had been a long time; the surge he felt told him that fatigue would not betray him.

  Second thoughts might, though. So that they'd have no chance to do so, he simply plunged ahead without preparation, forcing himself into her and hammering away as he hadn't done since he was sixteen and someone taught him better. At first he could tell she was withholding any reaction whatsoever; then he felt movements that had to be deliberately helpful, before his own overdue climax took away all thought.

  Eventually he sat up, saying, "You didn't come?"

  "I seldom do. "

  "Didn't even fake it—try to make me feel good. "

  "That, I never do. "

  "Chira does. " And for the first time he realized he'd done this thing with the barbarian girl watching. Well, too late now, so, "She does it real good—don't you, Chira?"

  "Better than her. Any time. " Pouting, she said that. "Well, not right now. Go get us all something to eat. " "You, sure, Tregare. She can get her own. " There was no thought at all, no volition. But his slap knocked her skidding. "You forgetting how to take orders?" Then Obrigo had hold of his arm and was saying to Chira that the two of them could share the chore. Tregare looked at her. "Ms. High-and-Mighty Paying Passenger wants to help with the scutwork?"

  "To accommodate one another in small matters, yes. " His hand scythed air. "Oh, get the hell out. And hurry it up—I'm hungry. "

  Unblinking, she said, "It would serve you right if we ate in the galley and then brought your food. Cold. "

  Effort turned his snarl to a laugh. "Talk all you want, Obrigo. You know better than to do it. "

  Then she clothed herself and the two women left; Tregare, showering and then dressing, wondered what the hell was going on, here. One thing he knew: right now, he didn't really like himself too much.

  Dinner, and wine afterward, relaxed him; conversation came easier. After a time, somehow the exchange of information led him to tell Tari Obrigo of the taking of Inconnu; she'd mentioned the garbled version that had him gaining command by mutiny against his own people, and he had to correct that.

  So he told of the tensions and dangers, the treacheries that could happen with Escape: how after Leon Monteffial assumed command, Cleet Farnsworths countermutiny had nearly given the ship back to UET. Except that Farnsworth hadn't realized Tregare was working outside the ship in a power suit, and would come back in and "—well, clean house, I guess you'd say. But I wrecked the suit, doing it. "

  Obrigo nodded. "That is most interesting, Tregare. It explains a great deal. "

  "Like what?"

  "An experience of that sort must not be easy to live with. I will remember, and make allowances. "

  Draining the latest refill Chira had given him, he said, "Nobody has to make allowances for Tregare. On this ship I make the allowances. Don't forget that. "

  "Very well. " But her smile mocked him.

  He wouldn't let her bait him again; he said, "You're a smart one, aren't you, Obrigo? I'll keep it in mind. "

  "And I will keep in mind, Tregare, that you are another. "

  The talk wound down. Feeling a little mushminded but more alive than he had in some time, Bran said, "Tonight you two can argue who gets which side of the big bed. I'll use the other. "

  As ship's days passed, Bran felt easier on one level but still anxious at a deeper one. His first thought, that Tari Obrigo was a weapon of Erikas against him, no longer seemed reasonable. But then, what was she here for?

  The harem thing wasn't an item he was proud of, but he'd begun it without meaning to; he could see no graceful way to ease out. Now that his strength was returning (thank peace for small blessings!) he took his occasional turns with Chira and with Obrigo—though now he tried to have one out of quarters when bedding the other. It struck him that as time passed he was less inclined, though still as attracted, toward Obrigo. Maybe it was the way he sensed that her muscular control, which sometimes heightened his pleasure, could just as easily shut him off. Once, maybe at her purpose or maybe not, that failure happened. Later he said to her, "If I thought you were playing games with me... "

  She laughed. "We all play games—it is our nature. "

  "I don't. "

  "Of course you do. You are playing one now. The name of it is 'I don't play games. '"

  Baffled, he told her he ought to space her "and the Hulzeins 1 be hanged!" But later, in bed, she erased his displeasure.

  As before, hailing and recognition at One Point One, the planet's spaceport, went easily. And this time there were people on duty, considerably older now, who remembered Bran from his previous visit. One of them patched him through to the appropriate official, and Tregare arranged for refueling to begin as soon as he landed.

  He wanted that landing to come when ship's morning was also the port's, so Gonnelson figured the requisite number of hours Inconnu should spend in orbit first, and at what height— a little short of synchronous, it turned out. Then, for the last dinner in space, he ordered up a real spread. Chira looked impressed, and even Tari Obrigo expressed appreciation without her usual hint of mockery. At the meal's end he brought out a dusty, oversized bottle of wine. "This stuff I save 1 for special landings, and there's only enough for three more. " Going into Far Corner, he reflected, he'd been too frazzled even to think of any celebration.

  Sipping, Obrigo nodded. "Delicious. I hope you can replenish your supply. "

  Chira laughed. "Not hardly, he can't. Comes from UET's main base, off Earth. Armed ships all over, he says. "

  Tregare found himself explaining how he'd gone into Stronghold with fake papers, for repairs. "That trick won't work a second time. But you never know—someday I may try the place again. "

  Obrigo nodded. "Yes—with a few more armed ships... "

  Was she a mindreader? "What have you heard?"

  Nothing specific, she said, except that he'd taken at least one other Escaped ship, maybe more. So he was building a fleet. "Will you take more armed UET ships, or arm your own?"

  He glared, but kept his voice low. "Nothing's safe from you, is it? All right—either, or both. I have—"

  "You have someone trying to duplicate this ship's weapons. I will not ask where. But the projector unit missing from its turret—not removed for repairs, I think, because the defective freeze-chambers are still in place. And why, may I ask?"

  "You trying to tell me how to run my ship?"

  Now she glared, too. "Somebody should!"

  She was sometimes a hard person to agree with. When he said, yes, he'd offload those chambers, immediately she told him to maintain ownership in case they could be repaired. He yelled a little. "... next you'll tell me how to zip my own shoes!"

  Chira giggled. "You sure let her get you mad a lot. "

  Looking then from one to the other, all he could say was, "You're giving her bad habits, Obrigo—you know that?"

  "I do not consider honesty a bad habit. "

  Tregare managed to turn his explosive laugh into a cough, "Yeah. Like she said, you do get me mad. But—you know? I'll miss you. "

  Surprisingly, she reached for his hand. "Tregare? At the first of this trip, I hated your guts. "

 

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